


An Imagined Affair

by St_Ciel



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-18 09:29:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1423309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/St_Ciel/pseuds/St_Ciel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if the love of your life was sat next to you on the train? You'll never know unless you say hello... A short story of love on the London Underground.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

 It's hot.

Almost stifling.

Why do they insist on blasting the heaters on high like this? I know it's winter but _still_ , it’s a mild winter.

We all run in from the cold, most of us are soaked from the rain and all of us are still in our coats. We all huddle together and cram onto the busy packed train as we make our way to work.

For the last year of my twenty-eight years of life, this has become my day.

It has been the same series of events over and over again and I grow tired of its tediousness. I wake up at the same time, eat the same breakfast, porridge - it's bland, so sometimes I add fruit, still bland but with fruit. I shower, I shave, I dress and leave my flat. I walk the same route to the train station, say good morning to the same neighbors and pretend I am outraged over the results of last night’s game with the barrier guard as I touch my Oyster card down on the yellow pad and go through the barriers.

Standing on the escalator going down, I often wonder how my life has come to this. The ritual and the monotony of it all.

I finished university with a First Degree in Law and was tipped to be fast-tracked through the ranks after my internship. There was so much expectation and hope - I even got into my dream job but soon the shine wore off and the thrill was well and truly gone.

Don’t get me wrong, I really don’t mind my job. I’m a solicitor, defender of the people – although these days the people I tend to represent are willing to sell their souls to me for 5p, it’s just too easy – not worth my time. I long and hunger for something I can really sink my teeth into but alas, corporate representation is not what it used to be, everyone is just as corrupt as the last. Normally, that would whet my appetite but these days? No. I want something stronger. I want to taste something I can really enjoy – but that doesn’t seem likely these days so I just become bored.

As we pass Bermondsey, I’m able to get a seat, which is something quite rare at this time of the morning.

_“The next station is London Bridge; please change here for the Northern Line and Mainline Rail services.”_

London Bridge, everyone crams on here, it's amazing how so many people can be squished in such a small car. I move my feet in as people mill their way down the carriage. It's the same people; _always the same_. It never ceases to amuse me on how identikit everyone is. All of the faces look exactly the same, the dress code is the same – the men are all wearing boring black suits with garish colored ties and the women are either in the same or basic black dresses. There is nothing different any more, everything is exactly the same – I guess I am too. I don’t do anything to stand out or to break the mold. If I were to glance over at my reflection in the window, I wouldn’t be able to distinguish myself from the others either. Sure, my face looks a bit different but I am also in a black suit with a white shirt and although I’m not wearing a garish tie today – I have plenty in my drawer at home. I just decided to go for classic minimal black today.

The train sets off and I settle into the rest of my journey, only six more stops to go. I absorb the sounds of silence, save for the shrill high-pitched shriek of the wheels on the rails as I look around me.

Someone is different.

He isn't particular tall but he is thin. His face is young looking but the way he dressed shows that he wants to be seen as older then he probably is. He is wearing black denim skinny jeans, white dress shirt, thin black tie and a baggy low V-neck cardigan in a royal blue. Amongst the sea of black and white similarities, he stands out.

I almost never use this term but he is breathtaking, absolutely. His hair is short but with a long fringe that drapes down the right side of his face covering... _An eye patch_? Now I’m interested. His other eye is as blue as his sweater and large. I bet if he looked up at me, I would be able to see myself reflected in it.

I’m staring, I know I am staring at him but I really can't help it. He captivates me. It’s as if he is meant to be looked at, created just to be seen. He’s more than beautiful, he’s pulchritudinous – a word created just for people like him.

From his body language I can tell he has never ridden the tube before. He fidgets constantly and bites his lower lip, he clutches onto the yellow bar handrail for dear life whenever the train stops and starts at each station. He also pulls himself together to avoid contact with the other passengers as they pass by him to get on and off. He looks annoyed which is adorable; his scowling face only makes him more attractive.

With each stop we pass, I am unable to take my eyes from him. The way he stands, the look on his face – his whole demeanor – just everything about him draws me in.

As the train pulls into Green Park, he looks around nervously as he tries to negotiate his way through the mass of commuters to exit as he gets off the train.

I can’t say that I am not disappointed.

 

...

 

Another working day is done.

I wander down the busy street. It’s hard to do that on a Tuesday evening, especially around Bond Street as all the shops are packed with tourists, and other commuters are rushing past on their way home. I like to take my time; I enjoy finding the peace amongst the madness, they all rush around me but I take in a deep breath and slow them all down in my mind. 

It isn’t raining for once, unusual for January, and it’s chilly but not cold. The sun has already set, as it tends to do at 5:30 but I’m in no rush to get home. I pull my black knitted wool scarf up a little and over my ears as I make my way down to the station.

My mind is filled with events of the day. The meetings and the reports written – being a solicitor means there are many reports one has to write. I feel the soft vibration of my mobile in my pocket, I quickly take it out – a text message from my mate Claude, _do I want to go out for a drink?_ No, I do not. Tonight, I can’t wait to get home; I just don’t feel like going out. I don’t know what has come over me, normally I would send him a quick text back and meet him somewhere but not today.

I make my way down to the platform, squeezing past the tourists who like to crowd by the entrance instead of moving down. I have a particular spot I like to stand in; a place so well positioned that when the train stops, the doors open right in front of me.

As the train arrives I brace myself for the onslaught of people getting off and the push and shove of those getting on. This train is empty today, that’s rare. I find a seat in the far back, nestled between a sleeping giant of a man and a woman fiddling about on her phone. I look around and it’s pretty much the same old faces, save for some tourists that are chatting away. I wonder if they look at me and think the same thing? There he is, that guy in the suit. He always looks bored; I wonder what he’s thinking? I’m thinking that I’m bored and I’m pretty much the same as you.

As we leave Bond Street I take out my phone from my pocket and have a flick through some emails I’ve saved and the return text from Claude, he is annoyed that I’m not going out tonight. Well, I guess he’ll just have to deal with disappointment just like the rest of us. The automated announcer sounds out the next station, I have these things memorized by heart: _The next station is Green Park; change here for Buckingham Palace and the Victoria line_. I grin to myself as I time the words perfectly in my mind.

People get off and the next group shuffle in.

The train sets off again and I go back to playing on my phone.

I try to settle into this new game app I had downloaded earlier but I am distracted. There is a woman who seems to be speaking a mile a minute without even taking a single breath. I pity the poor bastard she’s bleating on to as they don’t seem to be able to get a word in edge ways, not to mention the topic isn’t exactly the most interesting of subjects, what to serve at a dinner party, oh who cares about which wine to serve with which dish?

Out of the corner of my eye I can see a foot tapping impatiently on the ground. It starts to agitate me, as I can see nothing but the flicker of the heel as it goes up and down. I glance over to have a look at the owner who can’t seem to settle.

_Oh hello, it's you again._

There he is, the beautiful boy from this morning – what are the odds? Well, not as unlikely as it would seem, I see all of these people here pretty much on a daily basis.

You must have finished for the day and as luck would have it, you’re sat next to the incessant chattering woman. I momentarily look at her; she is very attractive, young and blond, her hair tied into two ponytails that hang low and frame her slender face. Her eyes are a bright emerald green color and are wide with enthusiasm as she carries on nattering away. I’ll give him credit, even though his foot is tapping anxiously and he has been nothing but silent, he does seem interested in what she is saying – almost as though he is used to it, like this conversation is a regular occurrence.

Is this your girlfriend? How long have you been together?

Is it strange to feel rejected? I haven’t even spoken one word to him and I already feel a sadness come over me, like I’ve lost something truly special. 

They must not be living together as he got on the train without her this morning or maybe she was running late – or he was? I watch how they are with each other; she constantly leans in and ever so gently touches his shoulder as she laughs with her whole body. He smiles back at her but keeps his arms folded. He leans in as well to listen intently to every word that spills from her glossy pink lips.

I can’t help myself, I feel jealous that she can sit next to him and touch him so freely.

I’m staring again – I know I am. I can’t help but be fixated on them, she’s beautiful and he’s beautiful and I’m jealous but he was never mine to begin with, he must have always been hers.

“ _The next station is Southwark, change here for Mainline Rail services from Waterloo East_.”

“All right Ciel, I’ll see you at work tomorrow. I’ll tell Edward you send your love – although he won’t believe it.” She chirps as she plants a peck onto his cheek.

“See you tomorrow Lizzie, tell your mum, _er_ , Aunt Francis that I want a rematch.” He replies.

“Yeah, that’ll go down well.” She giggles as she stands up and exits the train. If her mother is his Aunt then they are cousins. Oh! Not the girlfriend but cousins, so he must be single?

I espy him as he watches her leave and then his eye travels back through the train and then it lands on me. Shit, he catches me staring at him. My eyes widen in slight disbelief and I look away. Damn it, that was my chance to say something – _anything_ and I blew it.

Where has all of my confidence gone? I’m a twenty-eight year old solicitor, I argue for a living – if anything I have more than enough confidence to support this entire train carriage, if not the whole train but… when he looked at me, I couldn’t help but look away.

Useless – utterly useless.

_“The next station is London Bridge; please change here for the Northern Line and Mainline Rail services.”_

This is his stop.

He grabs his satchel from between his legs, gets up, and squeezes past everyone to leave the train. I watch him leave; there was nothing more I could do.

Although, at least now, I have a name.

I hope to see you at the same time tomorrow, Ciel. 

 


	2. Two

It’s been a week and I haven’t seen you.

Have I missed you? Are you early or running late? Or have you stopped taking the train completely?

I wish I knew.

My life has slowly slipped back into the drudgery it was before I first saw you and I hate it.

I go through the routine motions of my day, shower, shave, dress, bland porridge then leave for work. Hello same faces, hello same passengers and I make it down the escalator to the platform. I stand in the exact same spot every day, I see the exact same people every day and I wish that I could see you every day but you’re nowhere to be found.

Today, it seems, will be no different.

Rain surrounds me as I quickly walk to the station; it soaks me to the bone. I feel my feet getting heavy as they drag through the puddles as I make my way into the entrance, but I power through it, this is the train I have to catch. I know you won’t be on it so why do I rush? I swiftly side step the barrier guard as I swipe my Oyster card to enter, I really don’t feel up to polite conversation today. I pass the stragglers coming home from their night out and people exiting the train to get into work early.

Darting down the escalator and onto the platform, I go to stand in my designated spot. It’s the same place at the same time, every day.

The train is packed today, heaving; I can’t even get a seat. Normally, I would opt to stand in the center of the carriage in the hope that someone will get off at the next stop and I can squeeze in. However, I decide that I may as well just lean up against the glass partition next to the doors. Perhaps if you’re here today, you would pass me? I don’t know. I place my bag down behind me and press my shoulders against the glass as I balance myself and surf with the motion of the train.

I feel a little drowsy this morning, sluggish, not my usual – well, I wouldn’t say cheerful, but more alert, self. It’s your fault, you know, I can’t sleep well because I’ve been spending my nights thinking about you. I close my eyes and think only of you, you’re always there. You are ubiquitous. The color of your eye haunts me, the way that you stand tempts me, the way you carry yourself intrigues me and that scowl on your face amuses me.

With each station we pass, my body grows more anxious, my eyes long to see you, my ears ache to hear your voice again.

We pass Canada Water and my palms start to sweat.

We pass Bermondsey and I feel my heart race – we’re getting closer.

We stop and London Bridge and nothing.

I stand upright; my eyes dart around from person to person on this packed carriage, just for any trace of you but there is nothing.

I feel my heart sink into my chest as it has done for the last few days, it’s heavy and painful. I know it was a long shot to think that someone like you would be back but occasionally, I like to live in hope.

I lean back against the glass and fold my arms across my chest. Is it strange to miss someone you’ve only ever seen once and have never actually spoken to? I know it’s strange, it certainly feels that way but here we are.

I don’t know why but you invade my thoughts, I only saw you last week but I can’t help it, you’re there. I wonder who you are, what you do, where you live and how you like to spend your time. Are you single? Are you in love? What is your type? Would I be your type? I’ve never been so taken with anyone in my entire life and we’ve never officially met.

Although, I don’t know what’s stopping me from speaking to you. It’s not that I don’t have the confidence to approach you, I do and it’s not that I don’t have the charm – I have more than enough.

To work in the industry I work in, you have to have a major dose of bravado to how you carry yourself, a swagger and charisma. This kind of attitude is something that attracts people to me like a magnet. However, I’ve never really been interested. I can count the amount of friends I have on one hand and I’d much rather keep it that way. I find dealing with people outside of a working relationship to be messy – I hate mess. I like to keep things organized and clean – I find friendships always alter that. They become complex, demanding and time consuming – I would much rather focus my thoughts and energy on my work.

Out of everyone in my life, I think my mate Claude is the only one who pushes my boundaries of comfort. He is a colleague but I would consider him a friend – a constant and bitter rival on almost all things, but a friend nonetheless.

Although, with that said, I am popular. I’m not bragging – it’s a fact. You can’t have the charisma, swagger and all the rest and not be anything but popular, which I find to be nothing more than exhausting. Especially, as I try to limit my relationships with people.

Of course, I find relationships to be messy too. People can’t hold my interest or meet my expectations then I get bored and I find myself bored quite often. Well I was, until I saw you.

I didn’t speak, I only watched you but you had me – within the instant, I was yours. I think the saddest thing is that you don’t even know it; you have no idea of your hold on me. You could have me do anything and I would, I would obey your every order and command. Although, just by watching you for that short while, I can see, you’re messy and complicated.

Strangely enough, despite what I’ve just said, I welcome that.

You intrigue me Ciel, messiness and all.

I sigh loudly and close my eyes for a moment as I let the rocking of the train lull me to sleep. I get into the motion of it, the back and the forth as it clicks over each point on the rails. It’s oddly comforting, like being cradled to sleep.

Suddenly, the train slams to a halt and I fall forward slightly. I reach up and quickly grab onto the hand rail above me and stop myself before I collide into the person stood in front of me. Unfortunately for her, she wasn’t quick enough to brace herself and she falls to the floor. I bend over to help her up and as I stand back up, my heart pounds frantically in my chest – _there he is_ – I see him.

He’s sat in one of the middle seats, arms folded lightly across his chest and his head tilted to the side slightly. He’s fallen asleep and is breathing deeply.

He must have boarded through the doors further down or else how could I have missed him? He is still just as beautiful as I remember. He has the same childlike face with flawless features and... _Wait, what’s that?_ I squint my eyes slightly as I examine his face, there seems to be some kind of dark debris on the corner of his perfect mouth, I wonder what it is? It doesn’t bother me all that much, just curious as to what it could be. I look over the rest of his body, I’m afraid I can’t help myself. I see something crumpled up in his right hand; it looks like – _a candy bar wrapper?_

  _A chocolate bar at eight in the morning?_ _How naughty._ I chuckle at the thought. That must be what’s on the side of his mouth, a smidge of chocolate.

How I would love to reach over and gently wipe it off. To run my thumb over your full pouting lips as they part slightly every time you exhale. I want nothing more than to lean over and feel your lips against mine. They look delicate and soft like rose petals. I would brush my lips across yours, just to feel them at first and to taste them. Of course, they taste like chocolate and it’s delicious.

As I kiss you, your eye will flutter open, then slowly settle and close in the way that butterflies bat their wings when they land on a flower.

There is no one else here, just you and I.

You reach up and pull me into you, I can feel one hand on my head, gently tugging my hair whilst your other hand wraps around my waist, drawing me into you. I lean forward, bracing one hand on the back of the seat and the other grabs you. I know in that instant that I won’t be gentle as I firmly press your body against mine, causing me to land on top of you. With the hand around your waist, I slip it up and underneath your shirt to feel the coolness of your soft, smooth skin beneath my fingertips. I open my eyes just a little to see your face redden as you kiss me deeply, your tongue slides into my mouth, massaging my own as I move my hand up.

My hand travels up your back, tracing over each vertebrate of your spine. You shudder as I drag my hand along your side and onto your chest. My fingers run over your pert nipples as I decide to play with them, pinching and pulling – not hard but just a sufficient amount of pressure to cause you to moan quietly into my mouth and grip my back tightly. 

Don’t be quiet, I don’t want you to be quiet - I want you to be as loud as you want.

I want you to focus on me, concentrate on me – be here with me.

We disconnect and come apart with an audible pop as I move my lips to your chin, then your jaw, now your throat and your neck. I land just above your collar bone, using my nose to push the fabric of your shirt aside. You tilt your head slightly to allow me better access and I proceed to lick and suck your sweet, salty skin. I get carried away and I twist and pull your nipple harder as I nibble at your neck. You whimper loudly and I love it, your voice is so enchanting along with your scent and how you taste – I cannot seem to get enough.

You move your hand from my waist, down my lower back, over my side and towards my lap.

“ _This station is Green Park...”_

No.

_“Change here for the Piccadilly and Victoria Lines...”_

No, no, no.

 _“Exit here for Buckingham Palace_.”

And it’s over.

I watch as you jolt awake. You grab your satchel and quickly exit the train; my eyes follow you as you make your way down the platform and through the corridor towards the way out.

Damn it.


	3. End

I wish you missed me.

I wish you knew who I was and that you longed for me. Longed for my gentle touch on your soft skin. Longed for my lips on yours as I nibble your bottom lip lightly, licking your lips with my tongue before it playfully makes its way into your mouth. It searches and finds your tongue as you exhale into me. I feel your breath brush past my skin, it gives me goose pimples as your fingertips touch and caress my neck.

I wish you could miss me, like I miss you.

My phone vibrates in my pocket as I wait on the platform for my train. I feel like today is going to be the same as every other day. Meetings, depositions, and clients, whose innocence I will defend to the hilt – even though they really should be found guilty. Without even looking at the ID, I already know that Claude has sent this morning’s text and I already know that it’s another request for me to go out with him tonight. I suppose he misses our friendship, especially as I have been avoiding him lately.

It’s not that I don’t wish to see him, it’s just that I would much rather be home and spend my time thinking of you. Besides, I know that it’s only a cheap ploy to try and get me to meet his new blonde flavor of the month and tonight - I cannot be bothered.

I sigh heavily as my train arrives and I get on.

It’s empty today, it is a Friday and half term holidays for the schools but still, it’s quiet. I wonder if you’ll be on today?

It’s been yet another week and again, you’ve disappeared on me, nowhere to be seen. I scour the carriage, sifting through the herd as I look for you. My eyes dart from person to person to see if you have slipped past me like the last time but no. I move down along the train to see if you have gotten into another carriage but no. Hopefully, as today is so quiet, I won’t miss you when you come on.

This is ridiculous.

You have become my obsession.

You’re what I think about when I rise in the morning and what I fantasize about when I close my eyes at night. I am a grown man but you’ve reduced me to nothing more than a teenager with a silly crush. How have you done this to me? We haven’t spoken one word but you own me.

Shaking my head at this thought, I take a seat in the middle, fold my arms and wait for London Bridge.

…

 

It’s wet.

The London rain falls around everyone. It rinses the pavement, drips down the leaves of the trees and causes everyone to scatter to drier ground like ants. Me? Well, I welcome the rain.

Sliding the lever of my umbrella upwards, I listen for it to click into place and I hold it over my head as I walk down the street. I love rain, it’s refreshing and it makes everything clean again. What I love the most, is being able to walk down Bond Street without being pushed and shoved as tourists and locals alike take cover under shop awnings.

I arrive at the station, closing my umbrella; I shake off the excess water and make my way down the steps inside the station. Approaching the barrier and reaching into my pocket, I fish out my Oyster card but I drop it. Bending over to pick it up, someone crashes into me.

“Oops, I am so sorry.” She apologizes behind me as I turn to see who it is. My heart thumps, it’s Lizzie – that girl who’s always with Ciel. My eyes whiz around to look for him but he is nowhere to be found.

“No, I’m sorry, I should be the one to apologies.” I plaster on the brightest smile I possibly can. “I dropped my card.” I hold it up as she nods.

Being in front of the barrier, I quickly swipe my card and go through as I watch her do the same from the corner of my eyes. I want to follow her to see where she goes; perhaps she’s meeting with Ciel? Who knows? What I can ascertain is that she has just been shopping as she is lugging two heavy yellow bags from Selfridges and getting stuck in the barriers. I walk back over to help her, pulling the bags out of the clutches of the rubber doors that hold them.

“Thank you so much.” She smiles as I hand her bags back to her.

“Not a problem.” I say sweetly in return as we step aside against the wall, allowing other passengers to move past us as she adjusts the articles in the bag, grumbling in the process.

“I don’t know why I bought all of this. I’m going to a concert tonight and I can’t carry all of this.”

“Maybe I can help you for a little ways? Are you going to the O2? I get off at Canary Wharf so I can help you until then?” I offer.

She looks up at me as she continues to sort out the bags. “That’s really sweet but you’re all right. My cousin works at Green Park, I’ll ask him to help me. Although I bet he’ll be in some kind of mood about going tonight. It’s his favorite band, you’d think he’d be excited to see them but no, not Ciel, I’m sure he’ll find something to complain about.” She stops mid gripe and giggles nervously. “And I don’t know why I just told a perfect stranger all of that.”

“Don’t worry. I’m a solicitor, people always seem to get confessional around me. It’s a part of my job.” I attempt to soothe her embarrassment.

“A solicitor? That must be exciting? I bet you’re never bored.” She starts to stand up right and collect the handles of her bags.

“You have no idea.”

If I can mange to keep up this conversation until Green Park, I just may have a chance to speak to Ciel. This girl seems pleasant enough, I’m sure I can maintain a decent conversation with her.

“So-”

“Michaelis, there you are.” I’m interrupted.

“Claude? What are you-”

“You have passed on my attempts to meet for a drink for too long. Not to mention that we have to discuss tomorrows’ deposition. So I’m coming with you.” He declares as he approaches us.

I look over at Lizzie, who just smiles at me politely, probably confused by the whole situation.

“Well, thank you for your help.” She shows her appreciation again before she turns and walks towards the escalator, waving good-bye.

Okay, no. _No, no, no._ I am so close now and I’m certainly not going to lose this quickly. I follow her, Claude in tow, as we go to the escalators. She’s a ways in front but that’s fine, I don’t want to seem like I’m following her, well, even though I am.

Claude glares at me inquisitively.

“What has gotten into you?” He asks as he leans over.

“Fate.” I reply, Claude snorts at my declaration but it has to be. Fate must surely be on my side, why else would I have dropped my Oyster card and had his cousin bump into me? Here I go again sounding like a teenager but I truly can’t believe my luck.

Staying right behind her, we get the Eastbound Jubilee Line platform, walking all the way down to the end. This could be why I don’t see you any more when you come home; you’re no longer in my carriage. The train arrives and we each take a seat, Lizzie is just a little ways in front of us, I put my umbrella down in between my legs along with my briefcase whilst we sit opposite but a few seats down from her.

Claude and I are silent as I look up at the map above the handrail. My eyes dart over to Lizzie as she keeps hers fixed on the doors.

‘ _The next station is Green Park…’_

Here we go.

The train comes to a halt and the doors open. I can’t help but join Lizzies’ gaze towards the door as we both watch, as Ciel is one of the first people to board the train. He holds his book bag in his hands as he pushes up the sleeves of his sweater up over his wrists. His beautiful blue eye scans the carriage, looking for his cousin but it lands on me.

“What are you staring at?” Claude interrupts me again, causing me to advert my eyes to him. Boy, he sure does have a knack for being a giant bucket of water.

Ciel finds his cousin who was blocking a seat for him with her bags. Reaching over, she moves them, beaming brightly as he takes a seat.

I crane my neck to try and listen in to their conversation whilst maintaining my focus on Claude, who seems to be bleating on about tomorrows’ deposition and his new toy, how he can talk about both simultaneously, I’ll never understand.

As I listen, my mind starts to wander.

I wish I smiled at you before Claude pulled my attention away.

You know, I’m normally not this weak or cowardly but you control me. It’s your look, your face, the way you carry yourself and the way you move with such fluidity. I just want to press your small body against mine and hold you tightly. I want to hear you whimper and sigh, I want to hear you command me to take you harder as you call my name.

I want to break you – shatter you into pieces and hold them in my hands.

“You suffer from Cherophobia you know.” Lizzie pipes up snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Chero – what?” He says as he arches an eyebrow at her.

“Cherophobia it’s the fear of being too happy because you think something disastrous is going to happen.”

“I’m not like that.” He snorts.

“Well here we are – going to see Bombay Bicycle Club, which I believe is _your_ favorite band and you are wearing the face of a slapped ass.” She groans. Ciel sulks back into his seat as her eyes move over to me.

I smile as she mouths the words ‘ _I told you_.’ And I respond by shaking my head, which causes her to giggle.

“What’s so funny?” He inquires.

“Oh, nothing.” She replies.

You like Bombay Bicycle Club; I like Bombay Bicycle Club too…! Well, what are the odds? We actually do have something in common. I smile to myself as I start to let my mind image what that conversation would be like. We could talk about our favorite albums or our favorite tracks, I’m sure we would have similar tastes. Here I am sounding like a teenager, yet again.

We pass Bermondsey and I know that my time is almost up, especially if Claude is determined to stay with me until my stop. I need to think fast, if I can get him to get off at his stop, which is next, I may be in with a shot.

“Claude, how about I meet you later?” I suggest.

He sighs heavily and slides his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Fine but if you-”

“I won’t, in fact, you can even bring your new toy, _er_ , boyfriend and I can meet him.” I am loathed to meet him but if will make him leave. Claude smiles wearily and nods.

“Fine.” He agrees.

As soon as we approach Canada Water, Claude stands, grabbing his briefcase.

“I’ll see you later.”

“I’ll call you to arrange a time.” I nod.

The doors open and he disembarks the train.

Before I even have a chance to make my move, the train is flooded with concertgoers and I can barely see Ciel or Lizzie. I don’t know what to do, as my stop is next.

I exhale and chuckle to myself.

Maybe _this_ is fate. Perhaps I was just never meant to meet you. It all makes sense to me now and even though it saddens me, I know that it it’s probably true.

Grabbing my briefcase, I stand and push past those who are standing and head towards the door. I don’t even bother to steal one last look at you, as I know it would just make me change my mind.

I have to stop now.

I have to let you go and say good-bye.

_“This station is Canary Wharf, change here for the Docklands Light Railway.”_

This is my stop.

I exit the train swiftly but I walk away from it slowly as I know it’s the last time I’ll ever see you – it’s hard for me, you know.

Oh well, I am a realist; I know this is nothing more than the flight of my imagination. I just let it run away and get the better of me but now I need to reel it back and take control of it. We've spoken not one word to one another and here I am, carrying on like we’re lovers. It has to stop now; I may have to let this one go, I have to let you go Ciel. It’s starting to torment me and every day I don’t see you makes my heart ache. It just has to stop.

Still, it’s been fun.

“Um, excuse me?”

I stop, my heart thumping ferociously, pulsing loudly in my ears.

“You left this on the train.”

I shallow hard before I turn, just in case I imagined it all but there you are, holding out my umbrella with a half smile on your typically pouting lips.

_It’s nice to finally meet you, Ciel._


End file.
